Not What It Looks Like
by Skalidra
Summary: Tim works part time as a private investigator, to keep himself entertained and his mind interested. The case he's set on is nothing big, just another paranoid husband who thinks his wife's cheating on him. But in this case, there actually is a hot, shirtless guy who's hanging around the wife's house. That bears investigating.


Welcome to day 4 of JayTim week! Photography! This is pretty basic, but I had fun with it. XD Enjoy!

No **warnings!**

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Tim sighs, leaning back in his car and debating whether he really wants to get out of it and try for a closer shot of the house. It's not exactly a manor, not quite anyway, and he could definitely get a pretty good shot if he just had the energy to actually get out of the car and walk up to the fence. It's metal bars — not great for privacy — and there's a decent lawn separating it from the house but it's not like, a mile away like some of these places. He's done jobs before where he honestly wondered if the owners who hired him expected him to fly a drone over the land for pictures or something, because there was no way that anything but a _satellite_ was going to be long range enough to get pictures in the house.

Then again, what he does is amoral enough sometimes, why wouldn't they?

Half the time he's telling people calmly, insistently, that _no_ , your significant other is not cheating on you, stealing from you, or planning to leave you. The other half he's telling people that the ones he's been hired to spy on really _are_ doing what his employer is afraid of, but there are a lot of people who refuse to accept it even when there's proof. At that point, why even _hire_ him?

He tilts his head, looking out the window of his car and up at the house. This particular one is a very paranoid husband leaving on a business trip for a week, who wants assurance that his wife isn't cheating on him. Unfortunately for the husband, it looks like a pretty decent chance that she is. It's just the first day, and he's been watching — and snapping pictures of — a very handsome, tall, younger, kind of roguish man who showed up in the morning and has been there basically all day. Black hair with a careful white streak in the front, _defined_ muscle, and worn jeans above black combat boots.

The man's been shirtless for most of it too, which has been _quite_ a sight, even from a distance.

Normally he'd say some kind of worker, except that the husband didn't tell him that anyone was scheduled to come through, no problems with the house were reported, as far as he's seen, and the man showed up on a _motorcycle_ . True, he also brought in a backpack, but that looks a whole lot more like some kind of overnight bag than anything with tools in it.

It's a pretty simple setup, from what he can see. Now he just needs to get a shot of actual evidence.

He's got plenty of pictures of a shirtless man, and of the husband's wife _greeting_ said shirtless man, but nothing that actually makes it look like there's sex going on. He can wait till night falls, check which rooms are lit, and try for a picture then. Sneaking closer and getting a shot through the fence now is a gamble, plus it's hard to say if he'll got caught, and that could wreck the rest of the surveillance for this week. Best not to risk it so soon.

The wife probably won't be looking at any of the security on the house, and they haven't got a dedicated security staff, so sneaking around later should give him much better chances all around.

At least, that's what he thinks until it hits about five, just as the sun is starting to set, and the man comes out of the manor. Shirt on. He gets a couple more shots of him saying what looks like goodbye to the wife of the house, and a couple grins, but the man gets on his motorcycle and pulls out. He puts his camera away on the passenger seat, starts the car, and follows.

Well, he's got no evidence so far, but the wife is definitely _interested_ and you can see it in her expressions in the shots he's got. The man? Hard to say. He did a fair amount of grinning, and there was the shirtless and sweating thing, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's interested. Some people are just friendly, and workers are almost _always_ friendly to the people who are paying them. No definitive proof there.

It's automatic to follow the man; the motorcycle makes it a little bit harder but that's not enough to stop him. He's got quite a bit of practice at all this, it's been his job pretty much since he was old enough to have one. He doesn't precisely _need_ one, not with the money his parents left him — he's practically got his own manor — but he likes to keep busy, and this keeps his mind somewhat entertained between doing not much of anything. Plus, he doesn't have to worry about the spaces in between jobs, since he has the backup money. Really, his childhood interest in photography just transferred pretty regularly into the detective work, and he's never felt the need to hunt down anything more permanent, or anything that might interfere with his other hobbies.

He follows the man to a middling neighborhood, to a decently nice apartment building that the man pulls into the private parking garage of. He has to find a parking spot outside, but that's not hard. It's getting inside that might be a little trickier, but he's had practice at that too. He hides his camera in a backpack of his own, slings it over his shoulder, and heads inside.

It's not fancy enough to have a dedicated desk man, which means that he just crosses over to the posted list of occupants and their room numbers to find what he wants instead.

He can immediately cross off any female names, which accounts for about a third. He takes a bit of time peering at the apartments with two names — exclusively female and male pairs, this time — before deciding that he is _almost_ sure that whoever that man is, he hasn't got a partner at home. Probably. If nothing else pans out, then he can double check those paired names.

Then there's a sharp, automated ding of a bell, and he looks over to the elevator to watch the door open. It's the _man_ that comes out, backpack carried casually over a shoulder and not really sparing him more than a glance as he crosses over to the locker mailboxes. He keeps his gaze on the rows of names, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man produces a key ring from inside those jeans, and unlocks the one marked C-12. There's a small stack of mail that gets retrieved, before it's shut again.

He makes very sure that he's staring directly at the names as the man crosses back over to the elevator. Or at least most of the way. Then there's a pause in footsteps, the squeak of a heel on the floor, and then he _does_ look back because those footsteps are headed right for him.

The man stops a little too close for comfort and he shifts back half a step because _wow_ he's tall. Six feet. Easily. Also just about twice his size, and the muscle in those arms is a lot easier to appreciate from up close like this. Not the absurd muscles of a weightlifter, but big enough that he can _so_ easily imagine the man just lifting him straight up, which is _not_ a thing to be thinking about with him right there.

"Uh… Hi," he manages, staring upwards.

That mouth curls into a small grin, and then the man says, "Hey," in what might just be one of the sexiest natural voices he's ever heard. A rough rumble of a thing, low and pitched to be just between the two of them. "Looking for someone specific?"

His words seem caught in his throat, but after a moment he manages to swallow and get out, "Yeah. I uh, I'm in town to visit family. I don't see the name anywhere on here though. I was just going to give her a call and get her to confirm her address; maybe I'm in the wrong place."

The man's grin stays, even as those blue-green eyes watch him steadily, with a strange kind of intensity that threatens to close up his throat again. "Alright. Good luck then." It's a little easier to breathe when the man steps away, heading back towards the elevator and calling over his shoulder, "Enjoy your visit!"

He stares, right up until the man gets into the elevator and then actually _winks_ at him right before the doors close, with a crooked grin that feels a whole lot like he's getting teased. Which is enough to make him flush, but also enough to send a little thrill down his spine.

It only occurs to him after the elevator starts to leave that he could have just asked for a name, or introduced himself, and found out exactly who the man is and therefore where to find him in the building. The next moment, after he's smacked a hand over his face and grumbled into his palm, is when his gaze falls on the little digital read out above the elevator, that's displaying the number three quite proudly. Apartment number starting with 'C' too, that makes sense.

He turns back to the apartment listings, finding the third floor and then following the names with his finger until he finds apartment C-12, registered under a 'Jason Todd.'

Jason… Yeah, that sounds about right.

He loiters around the lobby of the place for awhile more, giving the prospective affair some time to settle in at home, before he heads up the elevator too. He turns the wrong way at first, then spins around and heads down the corridors, until he finds the apartment with the right number emblazoned on the front. He takes a glance down the corridor in both ways, then steps forward and presses his ear to the apartment door. Not that this has pretty much _ever_ gotten him anything useful, but it's really just habit now.

There's nothing from inside, not even a hint of sound, and he draws back an inch and peers at the door.

Which is when it opens in a sudden, sharp rush and he freezes in place, staring upwards in horror. And then in shock, because it's his suspect standing in the doorway, definitely not wearing anything but a pair of tight black briefs and _holy shit_ . His pictures do not do this man justice, and he pretty much never says that. They don't capture the precise curves of that chest, the mass of muscle in the thighs, the little trail of hair leading down from his belly button, to the band of those briefs and _oh god_ the bulge of what's definitely a cock and he should _not_ be staring.

"Well _hello_ there," his suspect says, shifting to lean against the doorway, mouth curving in a grin.

He just kind of gapes, cheeks flushed and not knowing what to say at all. But Jason is just watching him, waiting, so eventually he manages to just spit out, "This is not what you think." And then immediately winces, because that's just a terrible thing to claim in his current situation.

"Really?" Jason asks, still grinning. "Cause I think you've been snapping pictures of me all day, ever since I got to that lady's house this morning. Does that sound just about right?" He stays frozen, and Jason snorts. "So, are you some kind of pervert, or what?"

"No!" he protests. "No, I—" He debates for a couple seconds on whether or not to betray his client's trust, and then just decides to hell with it. He might get confirmation one way or another, and the husband's frankly a little irritating anyway so… "The husband hired me to keep an eye on his wife for the week he's away. You've been going in and out of her house all day, shirtless. In my world that looks like an affair."

Jason just stares at him for a second, obviously surprised, and then gives a sharp bark of laughter. "A— An affair? _Seriously?_ Wow, what a paranoid _bastard_ ." His suspect straightens up a bit, shaking his head. "I'm a contractor, alright? Interior design, mostly for painfully rich people. Your client's wife? Hired me to rework the living room while her husband's away, as a surprise. I've been _shirtless_ all day because it's fucking hot, and I've been moving furniture and helping this woman plan out exactly what she wants done before I hire some other workers to actually go at it."

Which makes a stunning amount of sense, honestly. Especially when Jason leans against the frame again, and gives a slow, curling smirk.

"And frankly, when I do work in women's houses, and some men's, they tend to give me _bonuses_ if I work shirtless. I am definitely not above using that to make a little extra cash on the side, especially when it's more comfortable anyway."

He swallows, gaze dipping a bit before he wrenches it back up and stammers, "Yeah you're uh, not— not really wearing anything."

"It's my apartment," Jason says, with the roll of the shoulder not pressed to the door frame. "That a problem? Itching to reach for the camera?" Before he has a moment to answer that, Jason's smirk is curling a little wider as he murmurs, "You know, usually I don't let people take pictures of me unless I _really_ like them, and yet here I am without even a name. That doesn't seem really fair to me."

"Tim," he blurts, without thinking. "My— My name's Tim."

A hand is offered to him, and he shakes it on automatic. "Jason, but I'm going to guess you figured that out already, from the way you were staring at the apartment roster down there." Jason's hand is calloused, a little rough, and _oh_ those thoughts of just being picked right up are back with a vengeance.

"Not until you got your mail," he admits. "It's uh… nice to meet you?"

Jason watches for a second, and then the taller man is leaning down, one hand rising. His eyes go wide, but he doesn't pull away as fingertips tilt his chin up, and then lips brush over his. _Want_ hits him hard in the back of his stomach, and his eyes slide shut as he gives a very small gasp. It lingers for just a moment before Jason is pulling back, fingers sliding out from underneath his chin and he pries his eyes back open to watch him pull back. Jason's got a faint smirk, and his movements are slow but confident as he takes half a step back and tilts, leaning against the door itself.

"Want to come in?" is the invite.

He _stares_ . Then gathers enough of the shattered pieces of his mind to ask, "For what?"

Jason's studying him, but it feels friendly, not at all the way he's used to being judged. "For whatever. Eaten dinner yet?" He shakes his head, and Jason tilts his head in towards the apartment. "I was going to cook myself food; I've got enough for a second person if you want to join."

"You cook?"

A sharp grin, and a small laugh. "Yeah, I do. I hear it's _excellent_ ." Then Jason's turning away, and _oh_ that view of his back, hips, _ass_ . "Though fair warning, unless you're really insistent I'm not putting on any pants. Either way, close the door." Jason's heading deeper into his apartment, hanging a left into an open door, and he stares at the short, empty corridor, weighing options in his head.

Oh, who is he kidding?

He steps across the threshold, from cheap carpet to decent wooden flooring, and then carefully closes the door behind him. After a moment of hesitation, he locks it too. Probably the best bet. He follows Jason's path into that first door on the left, and finds a kitchen, and Jason crouched down in front of an open refrigerator, peering into it with a faint frown.

"Got any allergies?" Jason asks.

"No," he answers, staring at the muscles of that back. "Is there uh, somewhere I should drop my backpack?"

The grin that gets flashed over a shoulder is a little bit knowing. "You mean the camera?" He flushes a bit, and Jason snorts and turns back to the refrigerator. "Anywhere is fine."

He glances around, and then decides to tuck his bag up on one of the mostly-empty looking portions of the counters ringing the kitchen. Then he leans back against it, pressing his hands against the curve of the fake-granite and looking around. It's a little bit cluttered, but it's actually a really nice, really neat kitchen. Not that it's got even the slightest chance of keeping his attention when compared with the mostly naked man just straightening up from the refrigerator and crossing over to some of the cabinets.

"This isn't what I was expecting," he comments. When Jason glances back with a raised eyebrow, he clarifies, "White streak, motorcycle, jeans, and combat boots does not usually equate to construction worker, cooking, and..." He pauses for a second, and then guesses, "Gay?"

"Bi," is the correction, with a flash of a grin. "Yeah, I know. What can I say? I just _love_ to shatter people's stereotypes all over the floor. What about you? Private detective for the rich and paranoid?"

"Keeps me busy," he offers, "and people will pay ridiculous amounts of money to get a few pictures and someone to tell them that they're wrong. Or right."

"You should come by tomorrow too," Jason comments, pulling out a couple of boxes. "I'll be calling in a few of my friends to help me out with the work. Your not-a-cheater is going to have a whole _harem_ of young, hot, shirtless guys in her house."

He swallows. Hard. "Really?"

Jason turns around, and his grin is straight up _wicked_ . "Oh yeah. You should see my best friend, Roy. Hottest arms I've ever seen, tattoos, and he's got this fucking gorgeous long, red hair that's just... _mmmm_ ..."

"That your type?" he manages to breathe, and then Jason is moving forward with that same slow confidence. Giving him time, but not hesitating.

"Well," Jason says, quieter, standing right over him and his breath catches when one long arm presses to the counter behind him, boxing him in against it. The other rises, fingertips ghosting over his cheek and then brushing his hair back behind his ear. "I might have a bit of a thing for hair long enough to wrap my hands in."

He shivers, and then Jason's kissing him. More than just a brush of lips this time, hand returning to linger against his jaw and carefully angle his head the right way. For some reason he doesn't pull away, just closes his eyes and joins in, clenching his hands on the counter and letting himself be guided. And alright, he was already a little bit wound up just because of the whole mostly naked thing going on, but this sends a fresh wave of heat down his back. He gives a soft groan, and he can _hear_ Jason's breath catch.

The hand on his jaw vanishes, and then a second later there are strong hands on either side of his waist and the kiss is breaking as Jason just _lifts_ him right up onto the counter in the span of a breath, like it's _easy_ . He gasps, eyes flying open, _heat_ slamming right down the length of his spine. Those hands let go of him, press to the counter instead to frame him, and then Jason's meeting his gaze, hovering but not moving forward.

"This alright?" Jason murmurs.

He has to get himself under control before he can nod and answer, "You lift me like that you can probably do anything you want," he admits. "You're— You're really kind of convincing me that I'm not real hungry after all."

Jason's gaze hoods for a moment — and if he thought the grin made Jason handsome it has _nothing_ on the way _desire_ makes him look — and then there's a slightly husky laugh, and Jason's shoulders roll back. "How about, we stick to dinner tonight? If you like my cooking, maybe tomorrow I can bring you lunch and we can see where the day takes us?"

"Not interested in a one night stand?" he asks, and Jason smirks.

" _So_ interested, but I kinda feel like I short-circuited you with the whole briefs thing. And lifting, apparently? That one's new to me. How about we give it a day to see what we think when you're not stalking me to my home and I'm not mostly naked in front of you?" Jason's smirk slips to a grin, and that rough voice gets a little teasing. "Also, I actually _am_ really hungry. Busy day; small lunch."

He finds himself cracking a smile, and then giving a slightly breathless laugh. "Yeah, alright."

Jason stares, and then murmurs, almost inaudibly, " _God_ , you're fucking beautiful. I—" A shove of breath, and Jason lets go of the counter and steps away from him. "Yeah, _I'm_ going to go put some clothes on. That's happening. I'll be right back."

Jason turns, striding out of the kitchen, and through the slight flush to his cheeks, he smiles a little wider.


End file.
